


scary movies and wistful dreaming

by Anonymous



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Alex Danvers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 16:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19407034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Oblivious longing with a nice helping of a school fight, horror movies, and cuddling.





	scary movies and wistful dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> I _think_ this is fluffy. The angst snuck it's way in, though. Fair warning.
> 
> Also, I have recently discovered that I can't write short and sweet because this was supposed to be 3K words. _Max_.
> 
> Lol, oops. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Enjoy! (Or don't. I can't force you to feel things.)

“What was that about?”

The question pulls Kara’s attention from Brad—a tall, muscular, football player walking back to his table of football buddies across the cafeteria—to Alex, sitting at their spot by the back doors, scribbling down answers on a chemistry worksheet.

“What?” She feigns confusion. She’s always been a terrible liar. She doesn’t know why she does it because it’s _Alex_. And Alex sees right through her, reading her like a book. One of her more recent skills she’d gotten terrifyingly good at in the short amount of time they’ve been getting along.

Alex points her chin towards the table, eyes narrowing suspiciously when she sees them laughing. A year too long of being an outcast and now Alex can see nothing but a threat when it comes to other people. Specifically, only when it comes to _Kara_ and other people. Guilt churns in Kara’s stomach and she swallows hard, pushing past it.

“Oh, that? That’s nothing. He was just looking for a tutor.” She sets her bag down on the seat next to her, deliberately sitting in Alex’s line of sight. (If it were up to the older girl, she’d glare at Brad for the duration of lunch.)

Alex hums in response, scrutinizing Kara for any signs of distress before going back to her homework. Kara tries not to roll her eyes, or admit the obvious care for her well-being makes her chest feel warm, choosing instead to dig into her food. She finishes in record time, picking at crumbs and staring mournfully down at her tray, and it’s times like these, with her stomach growling loud enough for the whole cafeteria to hear, she wishes students were allowed to go back in line for seconds.

There’s a pause in Alex’s scrawl—hazel eyes flicking back up to Kara and snorting at the pitiful expression—before she pushes her own tray to Kara; an untouched burger and an unopened bag of chips so tempting, the scent of warm _food_ less than a foot in front of her making her mouth water.

“For you.” Alex goes back to her homework, her barely legible handwriting covering a good portion of the page. Kara’s whole mouth fills with saliva at the offering, but, through sheer stubbornness, manages to push past it.

“I can’t, Alex. This is your food,” she says, sliding the tray back to the other side of the table with some reluctance.

“I already ate.”

Kara really wants to believe Alex is telling the truth, but Alex would have had to pay for a _second_ tray and students aren’t allowed seconds. Unless they bribe the lunch lady.

The thought gives her pause, sizing the older girl up.

_Is Alex bribing the lunch lady?_

She wouldn’t put it past the older girl, but this is a whole new level of protectiveness and Kara’s not sure if she should feel concern over Alex bribing someone for a second helping in order to feed a Kryptonian.

When Kara doesn’t move to take back the tray, Alex looks up, eyes sweeping over her dubious expression.

“I... packed a lunch. Ate it during break. I used the money mom gave me to buy _that_ ,” she nods over to the tray. “Figured you’d be hungry.” It’s almost painful to watch Alex pull the words out like teeth. There’s a light blush on her cheeks, and her eyes are back on her homework, slender fingers fidgeting with the pencil in her hand, but she shrugs like the gesture’s no big deal.

(Like it’s meant to be disregarded. Like this doesn’t _mean anything_ to Kara, still playing at human while old Kryptonian courting rituals spring to mind—her mother’s voice in her ear, whispering through Kara’s giggles as she explained the “silly” customs of bondmates.)

Oh. Alex _isn’t_ bribing the lunch lady. But she is making sure Kara’s fed. (Not _well fed_ because that’ll take about 23 burgers and chips and money Alex doesn’t have, but fed nonetheless.) And it _means_ something. It always means something. The warmth in Kara’s chest spreads up to her neck and cheeks, making her face feel hot. She’s sure she resembles a tomato and she’s very glad Alex is studiously avoiding her gaze.

She clears her throat, tucking her hair behind her ears, and mutters a quiet, “Thank you,” pulling the tray back to her and starting on the second burger. She takes her time savoring every bite of the bland meat—it’s always bland—and every crunch of salty goodness on her tongue. (Alex had even gotten her favorite chips—the ones with the “white crystals” on top.)

She notices Alex’s eyes flicking from her paper, to Kara, then across the room to Brad, and back every couple of minutes. Alex isn’t writing much. At all, really. Just tapping her pencil against the table, eyes softening every time they land on Kara, a small smile quirking at her lips before it falls and she’s glaring over her shoulder in Brad’s direction.

It’s adorable. Endearing, really. That’s the only reason she doesn’t kick Alex ( _gently_ ) under the table. (Sometimes she thinks Eliza was right about Alex being raised by wolves. If it weren’t for the numerous baby pictures of the girl, complete with a toothy grin and grass stains, and a younger Eliza and Jeremiah, she’d have a hard time believing anything but.)

Something changes in Alex’s expression, too fast for Kara to catch and so abrupt, Kara’s not sure what caused it. And she’s back to staring at the worksheet, fingers still fidgeting with her pencil.

Kara waits. It’s always best for Alex to get her thoughts in order and not push when she’s not ready. It would just make her clam up. Trying to get Alex to talk then would be like trying to make a rock cry or something (whatever the heck that expression is). She’s done with her burger and picking at the crumbs in the bag of chips when Alex opens her mouth and—

A shrill ringing signaling the end of lunch makes Kara flinch, hands immediately going up to cover her ears, shutting her eyes and going through the exercises her and Alex had come up with to help her focus, keep her calm. It only takes a few seconds this time, Alex’s proximity helping her hone in on the heart beating in front of her.

Her concerned face is the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes, hands reaching out to touch but never touching in case the added sensation made matters worse. Everything is still a dull roar, but it’s manageable, tolerable. Kara feels safe enough to put her hands down when most of the crowd has thinned out, leaving only a few stragglers with them in the cafeteria.

“You okay?” She nods, valiantly trying to block out the few students staring in their direction. “Ignore ‘em,” Alex mutters under her breath, quiet enough for Kara to pick up on, as she shoves papers and textbooks back into her backpack and slings it over one shoulder. Kara does the same, pulling both straps over her shoulders so she can pick up their trays and set them down on the counter by their table.

Two girls brush past them, whispering loud enough for _Alex_ to hear, and Kara’s face falls.

_“God, what a freak.”_

Unbidden tears come to her eyes that Kara furiously tries to blink back, the exhaustion from her earlier flare stripping her of what little defenses she could build back up. She doesn’t need to add ‘crying in school’ to the growing list of _weird_ the whole school seems to be in on and keep track of. Her shaky hands just tighten around the straps of her backpack, swallowing the hurt in her throat and staring at the ground. She keeps her focus on Alex, her heart strong and loud, anchoring her, while she tries to tune out the continued whispering of the two girls.

Alex’s arm curls around her, warm and soft and _protective_ ; the firm pressure pressing Kara to her as she leads them in the opposite direction. Her steady presence at her side feels safe, feels like _home_ and _always_ , and it surrounds Kara like a blanket. She knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Alex’s glare is murderous, daring anyone else to insult Kara in her presence, jaw clenched tight enough to hurt, but still managing to stave off any tenseness in her form. The duality never fails to amaze and it does wonders for her demeanor.

Standing tall has never been easier with Alex at her side, leaning her weight into the warmth of her and silently reveling in the arm pulling her closer.

They make their way down the halls to Kara’s next class. (Alex has made it a habit to accompany her to her class before heading to hers. It’s something Kara hadn’t expected—so used to Alex ignoring her in the beginning, keeping an arm’s length distance between them—but now can’t bear to live without.) Students walk to and fro, talking, yelling at friends down the hall, slamming lockers, groaning about the remaining two hours left in school, and Kara finds the chaotic cacophony of people and noises almost painless to sort through.

She feels Alex slow down when her classroom door’s in sight (last one at the end of the hall), scuffing her sneakers against the linoleum. Her fingers tighten around Kara’s arm just the slightest bit before letting go, arm falling away and back to her side, shoving both hands into her pockets. Kara keeps the pace, wanting to stay by Alex’s side for as long as possible, eventually slowing to a stop when Alex does a few feet from the door.

“Are you really gonna tutor that guy?” Alex blurts out, a grimace on her face at letting the question slip out. There’s a laugh bubbling up Kara’s throat at her surly expression, but she manages to bite back the noise. She’s can’t suppress the smile, however, and she gets a soft glare in return and an even softer shove that makes her giggle and shrug.

“He said he’d pay me $20 an hour, so—”

Alex chokes. “ _$20 and hour?_ For tutoring?”

“I know, right?” she grins at Alex’s shock. “It’s only two weeks, though. _And_ it’s at school. I’d have something to do while waiting for your soccer practice to finish.” She’s nervous and fidgeting with the straps of her backpack again when Alex just blinks and stays quiet, face unreadable. She needs Alex to be okay with this. It’d taken them so long to get _here_ , to this point. She can’t have her pull away again. She can’t have Alex think _she’s_ the one pulling away. “I figured... I may as well, right? It’s just tutoring.”

It’s a long few moments before Alex nods, blowing out the breath she’d been holding. “Yeah. Yeah, that, that sounds great,” she laughs, the sound so forced that Kara immediately feels like finding Brad and turning him down flat. As if sensing her apprehension, Alex schools her features into something a little more soothing, hoping to ease Kara’s worries. “No, really. I think it’s good,” she nods, a little too fervently, tugging at her left ear, “and you won’t be waiting around for me as long. I know it can get kinda boring up on the bleachers.”

Despite their nerves, Kara’s relief is palpable. And contagious. The tense set to Alex’s shoulders smooths away and her smile comes easier this time, left side lifting into a smirk.

“You’re paying for the ice-cream, though.”

Kara stills at her words, eyes widening at the realization of having money to buy _ice-cream_. She could buy _so much ice-cream._

“Do _not_ spend it all on ice-cream.”

Kara scoffs. “I’m not going to spend it _all_ on ice-cream. There’s pizza and potstickers to think about.” She petulantly sticks her tongue out for good measure.

The chuckle, and the eye-roll, and the soft, exasperated look that follows are mesmerizing to take in. To be on the receiving end of such easy attention and tender affection _from Alex_ is breathtaking, and Kara can’t believe she ever went without. She can’t rein in the wide grin on her face, nor the fluttering in her stomach, and her chest feels about to burst.

And it seems like Alex feels the same. Just as taken, just as captivated as Kara is, wanting the ease of the moment to last and linger.

“He’s cute,” Alex says, and it’s like a bucket of ice water’s been poured over Kara’s head, drenching her in a cruel reality. Her voice is far too soft and welcoming and something else that makes Kara’s chest ache and her stomach sink like lead. The smile on her face is small and... resigned. Before Kara can respond, Alex is moving away from her reach, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

“I should...” she gestures behind her with her thumb, turning back the way they came to head to her own class. Kara’s left standing, watching Alex walk away until the bell rings. The shrill noise makes her flinch horribly.

It’s takes longer for her to recover this time, choosing instead to hone in on the tick-tick-tick of the clock a few feet away.

* * *

Tutoring goes as well as can be expected.

Alex walks her to every session without fail. The time away is taxing enough for the both of them that the clinginess is expected, even if it’s _only_ an hour and a half that Kara’s away. Kara still finishes before Alex’s practice is over and she goes right back to sitting at her spot on the bleachers, watching Alex run.

Alex waves up at her when she spots her, and Kara waves back just as enthusiastic to see her again. There’s a goofy smile on both their faces and, yeah, maybe it’s a little silly to miss each other after an _hour and a half_ apart and be so excited to see each other again they practically vibrate, but Kara wouldn’t have it any other way. The sight of Alex being teased by her teammates for her dopey expression is just the cherry on top and she’d taken great pleasure in teasing Alex herself when she’d taken a soccer ball to the head, distracted from practice trying to communicate with Kara up on the bleachers using only hand gestures. The goof.

Alex’s smile is refreshing and it washes away the pain of tutoring.

Because Brad may be charming, and friendly, and easy on the eyes, but he’s an absolute _nuisance_ to tutor. He seems to have no interest in improving, spending most of their time together asking Kara inane questions like ‘which diner has the best fries’ or whether or not she’s ‘eaten a tub of popcorn on a ferris wheel’ and Kara is _frustrated_. She thought this would be easier.

Her cranky demeanor prompts Alex to ask how tutoring is going and Kara rants for about an hour when they get home.

“Why is he paying for a tutor if he doesn’t want to be tutored?” she asks, throwing herself bodily on her bed, backpack forgotten somewhere on the floor while Alex tosses hers on her bed. (She’d learned to control the strength and speed at which to do so a few days ago with Alex and now she does it every chance she gets, much to Alex’s chagrin.)

She expects Alex to shrug, say, “Guys are stupid. Let’s go get ice-cream.” (Or pizza or Chinese.) She does not expect Alex to stammer and stumble over her words as she tells Kara her theory on Brad’s continued interest in _her_ instead of his work.

“I, um... I, uh, I think he likes you. Like romantically.”

Kara thinks it’s a joke at first. Alex’s weird, roundabout way of adding levity in that inappropriate way she sometimes does. But the sincerity in her voice, and the earnest expression on her face makes her own face scrunch up in disbelief.

Kara wants to laugh. It’s ridiculous. Preposterous. Brad’s never shown an interest in her before, even outright ignoring her her first year. It’s not possible.

“Why?” she asks instead.

“Why does he like you?” Kara can see the incredulity beneath Alex’s searching eyes. “I don’t know, Kara. You’re tall, blonde, skinny,” she starts, avoiding her gaze while pulling out notebooks and textbooks from her backpack, “...attractive, smart, kind, funny. Pick one. Or better yet, ask him. I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

Alex flips through a history book while Kara mulls over her words, taking the time to get out her own books and papers and laying them out on her bed. There’s a sigh from across the room that makes Kara look up, brows furrowed with a slight frown on her face.

“Look, he likes you. But if you’re worried, you should just ask him.”

“I’m not worried,” she lies. Alex’s raised eyebrow is all the response she needs and she pouts. Alex knows her too well.

They’re quiet for a moment, the sounds of papers shuffling and lead scribbling filling the room until Alex stops and purses her lips, tapping her pencil against her hand. Kara pulls at an invisible thread on the blanket under her as she waits for her to gather her thoughts.

“Do you like _him_?” The whispered words are loud in their shared room, seeming to echo and reverberate in the small space.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

“You think I’m funny?”

Alex chucks a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

* * *

Everything had started out normal. Their morning routine was like clockwork at this point. No more fighting, no more yelling, no more trying to annoy the other (as much).

Alex was a little standoffish, sure, but by the time lunch rolled around, Kara had gotten her back to her old, serious self; rare smile and all.

So it comes as a surprise when Alex’s entire demeanor changes in the two minutes she walks Kara to the library.

Brad meets them at the door, coming in from the other end of the hall, easy smile on his face. Alex tenses beside her at the expression, shifting the weight of her duffle further up, eyes narrowing. He shuffles his textbook to his other arm, nervously watching a stony-faced Alex from his peripherals as he opens the door for Kara.

Her hands sweat as she shuffles inside, flicking her eyes from Alex to Brad and back with a questioning gaze. Neither of them budge from staring each other down and she bites her lip when the older girl doesn’t head off to practice, eyes hard as she stares at a fidgeting Brad trying to stand taller under her scrutinizing attention.

“Can I talk to you for a second? In private.” The question’s said as more of a statement, leaving no room for Brad to argue or refuse.

_Oh, Rao._

Kara laughs nervously, anxiety thrumming in her veins. “Sh–she’s kidding,” she says, stepping forward and gripping Alex’s arm in slight warning. Brad shifts his weight, back straightening with the added tension between the two.

“I’m not.”

“ _Alex_.” Her voice is scolding, glaring at Alex, her face red as a tomato. And, Rao, this is _embarrassing_. “We should... probably head inside,” she grimaces, tugging Brad through the threshold and inside the library. “You should probably head to soccer practice or you’ll be late. _Again_.”

A pointed look thrown in Alex’s direction is all she leaves her with, shutting the door in her face. Alex will get an earful from Kara later. At home and in _private_. And judging by her sulky yet sheepish expression, she knows it’s completely warranted.

But it won’t be pretty or easy.

And Kara’s seriously considering taking back everything good she’s ever said about Alex.

* * *

  
  
Tutoring is awkward. With Kara clearly frustrated, Brad keeps his inane questions to a minimum. (Nonexistent, actually.)

It’s the most intelligent thing he’s done in the two weeks they’ve been doing this.

They’re mostly quiet. Or at least Brad is. Kara does most of the talking and only when necessary, like correcting a mistake (several), or explaining how to solve a particularly difficult problem. She’s kind of glad she doesn’t have to hear much of his voice for the duration of their session. It’s bad enough she can barely glance at the boy.

Rao, _why_ did Alex have to do that? Why now?

She’s so mad, she just wants to... She wants to...

Well, she wants to do _something_ that’s for sure.

Maybe she’ll scream into a pillow when she — _they_ get home.

Kara finishes a little early and she takes her time heading out to the bleachers; no longer fuming, but working through the conversation she’ll have with Alex when they get home. The faint sounds of people yelling in the direction of the field is soothing and familiar enough that it becomes garbled white noise while she goes over the hypothetical talk, running different words and tones in her head until she’s more or less confident she won’t throw out her whole spiel when Alex uses her puppy dog eyes.

They’re as lethal as her pout is.

She gets there in time for the team’s final lap around the field. Instead of sitting at her usual spot (first row, far right), she stays hidden at the foot of the stands, leaning against the metal railing leading up to the bleachers. Alex is panting as she finishes, uniform sticking uncomfortably to sweaty skin, stretching her limbs as she catches her breath.

In the ten minutes she’s been watching, she hasn’t looked up once at the empty space where Kara usually sits. Which means Alex knows Kara isn’t there.

Guilt churns in her chest and stomach, a hurt she tries to ward off, swallowing hard and wrapping her arms tightly around her midsection. She wants to be indignant at feeling this way, but it doesn’t change anything. The guilt just settles painfully somewhere in the middle at the girl’s hunched shoulders and a familiar frown on her face.

 _She_ put that there.

Exercise like this usually means a longer shower in the locker room, which means Kara’s stuck waiting a little longer to have that talk. She debates waiting out in front of the school, but ultimately decides against it. Alex would flip out if Kara wasn’t waiting for her here, at the bottom of the stands: her usual spot. And Kara would never worry her like that.

She settles down to wait, cross-legged on the concrete, warm from the sun now setting behind the set of stands on the other side of the field, hugging her backpack to her chest. The coach yells for the girls to head to the locker rooms and she follows Alex’s slouching form cross the field, exhaustion clear in her gait. As the last of Alex’s teammates disappear behind closed doors, she goes through her breathing and hearing exercises; focusing on one sound at a time within a one mile radius.

With closed eyes, she sits and listens. Her muscles relax the longer she breathes in and out, keeping a steady rhythym. The sound of the wind whipping through a flag, ants crawling across metal, water rushing through pipes, an engine starting in the parking lot, the rubber sole of sneakers on the track, the brush of lead on paper, the crack of a fist hitting flesh—

She opens her eyes in time to see Brad swing his fist, hitting Alex square in the face. The sound is loud in Kara’s ears and she flinches at the noise. The blow is strong enough to make Alex stumble back a step and a second later she’s lunging at the towering teenager, tackling him to the ground. Kara scrambles to her feet when Alex pulls her fist back and punches Brad in the face.

The whoosh as Alex’s breath is knocked out of her with a well-placed hit to her stomach is the only thing she can focus on as she runs. She’s pretty sure she _doesn’t_ use her super-speed, wanting only to get between the two brawling on the grass, but that’s the farthest thing on her mind. She just knows she’s there when their respective teammates break up the fight, dragging back their snarling, bloodied friends away from the other.

Alex tries to lunge at Brad again, teeth bared, but three different girls from her team hold her back—hands wrapped firmly around shaking arms, two at her sternum—pushing her further away. The sight of Alex trembling in barely restrained rage urges her to move into her line of sight.

“Alex, _stop_.” Kara’s voice is clear, cutting through her blind haze and Alex snaps out of it almost immediately, stilling underneath her gaze. Her heart’s racing under the palm on her chest, breathing labored, jaw clenched so tight she’s worried it’s in danger of snapping under the force. But Alex loosens her stance, muscles relaxing at the sight of Kara in front of her.

Before Kara can open her mouth to ask Alex why the _hell_ she was fighting with Brad, everything is moving again. Like the sound’s been turned up. All the noise comes rushing back.

“Shit. Coach,” the girl to Kara’s right interrupts, looking at something over her shoulder. “Get her out of here,” she mutters through gritted teeth, shoving both her and Alex towards the closest gate. One of the others pushes Alex’s dropped duffle into her arms and Kara tugs her to the exit by the lapels of her denim jacket, not caring that Alex is left stumbling along after.

* * *

  
  
The walk home is tense.

Alex’s heartbeat is still a little elevated from the fight, but she keeps her head straight, hands twitching around the strap of her duffle bag.

As much as she wants to stop and check on Alex (Brad gave as good as he got and he’s no skinny kid), she knows she would just be brushed off. The anger from earlier has faded for the most part, but it hasn’t dissipated completely. Any comfort Kara extended would be unwelcome, so she keeps walking, matching Alex stride for stride.

The house key is pulled from Alex’s pocket when they walk up the empty driveway and they’re both relieved at the sight. Eliza must still be at work.

It’s something they’ll both have to deal with when she eventually does come home; the ensuing lectures, the words that make the strongest person Kara knows curl inward and feel _small_ , and the argument that would follow when Alex remembers _why_. But at least they don’t have to deal with it right now.

Alex drops her bag to the floor as soon as she steps foot inside, heading to the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water, purposefully ignoring Kara following after. She finishes the glass in two gulps, holding it for a moment longer than necessary; probably hoping it would stall the inevitability of the conversation.

When she sets the glass down in the sink, she crosses her arms, and leans against the counter, finally daring to look at Kara, swallowing hard at her cold expression.

She can tell Alex is trying not to squirm under her glare, but not succeeding entirely. Alex tightens her fingers around her arm the longer Kara stays silent, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

She huffs. “Kara—“

“What the _hell_ , Alex.” she says through gritted teeth. The older girl’s jaw clicks shut at the interruption, nostrils flaring at Kara’s cavalier use of a curse word she _never_ uses. “Why? Why did you get into a fight with Brad?”

Alex stays quiet, jaw tight as she stares at the ground.

“Well?” Now Kara’s arms are crossed, form wound taut with Alex’s apparent refusal to talk.

“Is it because he likes me? Is that why you wanted to talk to him before tutoring? Which, by the way, I haven’t forgotten.”

Alex is stiff, tense, in front of her. Still avoiding direct eye contact.

“ _Alex_.”

Alex grimaces, teeth grinding together, shifting her weight. She may as well be watching Alex pull out her own teeth with her pained face, the words getting stuck in her throat every time she opens her mouth.

“He’s a jerk.”

Kara raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“That’s it? ‘He’s a jerk.’ _That’s_ why you punched him in the face?”

“He, I... He was talking ab—“ her mouth clicks shut. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter,” the older girl mutters, pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen.

Kara reaches out as she walks past, wrapping a hand around her arm. “Hey, it _does_ matter, Alex. You got into a _fight_. At school! What if they kick you off the team? You could get suspended, you could get expelled, Alex. What then?” She wants to yell and shake Alex. Her blood boils in her veins because she’s acting like the fight doesn’t matter. Like the possible consequences of her actions aren’t going to affect her at all.

This cavalier apathy infuriates her to the bone.

And _why won’t Alex look at her?_

“I trust you, I love you, Alex.” And finally— _finally_ —that gets Alex’s attention. “But ‘he’s a jerk’ isn’t going to cut it. Why did you do that? Why did you punch him in the face?”

Alex stays quiet. Long enough that Kara is a second away from giving up and walking away from this entire conversation.

“It was a dare,” she blurts out. Her eyes widen as if startled at her own words. She hesitates, opening and closing her mouth before spilling, stammering and huffing with anger as she recalls what brought on the fight. “He was trying to... His asshole friends dared him to... I just, I got _so angry_ when I overheard what he was trying to do and I–I _fucking lost it_. I couldn’t just stand there and listen to him—” she shuts her mouth at Kara’s wounded look.

A dare? “Oh.” A pause. “What kind of dare?”

Alex’s mournful stare makes her chest feel like it’s being carved by a knife.

She regrets asking.

Her arm falls away, and she pointedly ignores the way Alex’s hand twitches as if wanting to reach out and comfort.

“Right. Yeah. I don’t want to know. It’s better if...” She fidgets with her glasses, clearing her throat and grimacing as she avoids the look Alex must be giving her. Blinking back tears, she tries to push down the hurt in her throat.

She won’t cry.

She won’t.

Not yet.

“Kara—” The words are too soft, too understanding, _too much_. She _can’t_.

“I should... I have homework. I’ll be upstairs.” There’s no hiding the break in her voice, ugly and loud in the stillness of the room. It’s stupid. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Kara doesn’t _like_ Brad. So it doesn’t make sense. This _hurt_ doesn’t make sense. If anything, she should be relieved. She _is_ relieved. She is.

She can’t look at Alex. The tears threatening to spill down her cheeks would fall if she were to just _glance_ at her face. She walks past her instead, grabbing her backpack on the way and darts up the stairs to their bedroom, leaving Alex standing in the empty space between the kitchen and the living room.

Alex watches her go, rooted to the spot as the door clicks shut, echoing in the silence.

* * *

Humiliating.

That’s what this feeling is.

A dare. A _dare_. A stupid and _cruel_ dare.

Alex was right to punch him in the face. She can only imagine what he must’ve been saying for her to react the way she did; quick, painful, shaking with the force of her anger.

She should’ve known. She’s the weird kid. She’s the _freak_. Why else would Brad have shown such a keen interest in her?

Genuine interest in _Kara?_ Ridiculous.

Stupid.

She can’t face Alex. Doesn’t _want_ to face Alex. She doesn’t want her understanding, doesn’t want her lack of pity, doesn’t want the comfort Alex would readily extend were she to make her way downstairs right now (even awkward as it would be with the heaviness of the situation).

All she wants is to lie in bed and cry.

 _Alone_.

Without anyone watching, hidden behind a closed door and under the safety of her covers.

Without fumbling hands and a familiar, steady presence to hold. Without the calming scent of _Alex_ or the familiar beat of her heart under her ear.

She just wants to hurt.

Just for a little while. Just Kara.

She’ll go downstairs afterward.

After she’s cried her tears and wiped her face, completely ignoring her splotchy cheeks and visible tear tracks, she’ll check on Alex. Give her ice to bring the swelling down. Because Alex had sighed after she’d heard the door to their room click closed and made her way to the living room couch and hasn’t moved since. She’ll put ice in a baggie and hold it to her face until it melts if she has to.

But for now, she stays in bed, blanket over her head with Alex’s pillow clutched tightly to her chest, and cries.

* * *

Alex is staring at the TV when she heads downstairs. The volume is low. Too low for her to hear anything, and it’s reminiscent of the entire month Alex had had to keep it that way because Kara still hadn’t learned to control her enhanced hearing.

She’s quiet as she makes her way to the couch, taking a seat on Alex’s left while the older girl tracks her movements. Kara carefully examines the darkening bruise, fingers lightly brushing over the tender skin. It looks painful, a striking purple against pale skin, but Alex doesn’t flinch, wince, or pull away from Kara; only shivers at the barely there touch, her piercing gaze searching Kara’s face.

She breathes and Alex breathes with her.

“You okay?” The sheer ridiculousness of Alex asking that with a bruise on her cheek, ribs probably sporting a matching one, and knuckles darkening as well, is not lost on Kara.

Her answering smile is tremulous when all Alex can do is stare at the tear tracks on her face and her red-rimmed eyes. All evidence of the good cry Kara had, the hurt still palpable to the one person most attuned to her.

She sighs and gets up to grab ice from the freezer, using the moment to clear her head and wipe at her face.

When she comes back, the surprise is clear on Alex’s face—probably expected her to go back upstairs—but she hands her the ziplock bag of ice wrapped with a paper towel and flops down on the couch (something else she’d gotten good at with Alex’s help and lots of practice), settling on her other side. Relief runs through her when Alex takes the bag, never more grateful for the sound of crinkling plastic brought up to her injured face.

The movie or show plays quietly on the TV, neither paying attention, just sitting in silence. There’s a noticeable distance between them with Kara choosing to sit farther apart from the older girl. A rift the both of them want to close, but unsure how. It’s most likely why Alex doesn’t move from her spot, tense and reluctant to shift any closer because Kara may be concerned and helping, but her hurt is still fresh. And she’s still a little mad at Alex.

When her hand twitches on her lap for the fourth time, she huffs, takes her hand and interlocks her fingers with Alex’s. It’s a little sweaty (probably from nerves), but she can’t deny how good it feels. How right and comforting the sensation is, the weight of her palm, slender fingers lacing with hers. She’s careful—always careful—with Alex; the fragility of humans a sobering thought as she takes in the bruising on her knuckles.

She can feel Alex watching her while Kara’s thumb caresses the soft skin of her hand. The intensity of it is a little unnerving for Kara at the moment. More than a little.

“What are you watching?” she asks, hoping to break the perceptible tension between them. It works. Alex snaps out of her focus almost immediately, turning back to the TV as if she’d forgotten it was on in the first place.

“Uh... Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I think. I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything else.” Kara doesn’t mean to balk, but with a title like that... She scoots closer to Alex. Horror movies always freaked her out, even if she asked to watch them half the time (which she will always _firmly deny_ ).

Alex chuckles beside her, squeezing her hand in reassurance and finally relaxes, the tightness in her shoulders easing as she stretches out her legs for good measure.

“Did you finish your homework?” she turns to ask.

Kara hesitates. Right. Homework. She was supposed to be doing that.

“...No. You?”

“No, I... forgot my backpack at school.”

She tries and fails to choke down the laugh that bubbles up in her throat. Alex just looks blankly at her, dumbfounded, and Kara laughs even harder. She doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the absurdity of Alex leaving _that_ behind after the _fight_ , where they’d practically made a run for it at the possibility of getting into serious trouble, or maybe it’s the utter relief of being past it; having talked it out and getting back to _their_ version of normal, sitting on the couch, hands intertwined, watching _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ of all things.

Alex’s lips quirk up into a smile and before she knows it she’s laughing along with Kara, ice pack falling away to the coffee table.

Eventually, their laughs die down, but they’ve snuggled in closer together with Kara pulling Alex’s hand on her lap, staring down and brushing her fingers across the tender skin of her knuckles. The TV blares in front of her, but she pays it no mind.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, voice as quiet as she can make it. Kara hears the break in her words like they’ve come from inside her chest. A crushing pressure on her ribs that she thinks Alex feels, too.

“Don’t be. I’m not mad at you anymore.” Alex’s dubious expression makes her huff and rephrase. “Okay, I’m still _a little_ mad, but not as mad as before. You ‘defended my honor’ even if it _was_ dumb and unnecessary,” she finishes with a cheeky smile. Alex rolls her eyes in response.

“Goof.”

“Jerk,” Kara giggles. The slight moisture on Alex’s cheek from the melting ice catches the light of the sun, pulling her attention to the light purple of her skin. It’s gives her pause; the consequences of Alex’s instinct to protect, the color stark and out of place against the rest of her.

There’s so many things she wants to say, so many things she wants to tell Alex. Promises she wants Alex to desperately keep. That she doesn’t need protection when she’s _invulnerable_. Like her cousin. Putting herself in harm’s way like that... Kara wouldn’t know what to do if Alex were to get seriously hurt, especially if it were something Kara herself wouldn’t get a scratch from.

It’s futile to think about, though. She knows. No good would come of asking, of forcing her to keep a promise like that. The only promise Alex is likely to keep is one which guarantees her safety. Anything else, anything _less_ and Alex would only try harder to make sure of it.

“You always take care of me,” she murmurs instead, voice wavering with emotion, eyes tracing along the line of her bruise. “You don’t have to, you know.”

Alex’s answer is immediate. “I know,” she says, tremulous, but vehement in her ferocity. Warmth blooms and settles in Kara’s chest and before she knows it, she’s leaning in and placing the softest of kisses on the tender skin of her cheek. She doesn’t wait for Alex’s reaction when she pulls away, only brings her arm up and over her shoulder and half-buries herself into her side.

Her heart pounds in her chest and she hopes, _prays_ , that she didn’t just ruin the most important relationship she’s had in the two years she’s been here. She’s so distracted, she hardly pays attention to the horror movie playing out on the screen before her. Her hearing focuses on Alex and Alex alone until there’s a scream coming from the speakers, loud enough for her ears to pick up and she jumps, closing her eyes and trying to block the noise out.

Alex tightens her arm around her and Kara wants to cry in relief at the ease with which she starts to sift through the noise to find the reassuring beat of her heart, latching on and anchoring herself to it. She’s cried enough, she doesn’t need to start up again. The small kiss on her head, however, makes her melt.

She’s a puddle. She’s goo. Alex’s affection will be the death of her, she’s sure of it.

She opens her eyes and promptly squeaks at another jump scare, hiding her face into the crook of Alex’s neck this time. Alex’s arms immediately wrap around her waist, and Kara smacks her shoulder when she laughs at the noise, scoffing at the unnecessary, “Ow!” she lets out.

Goof. She hadn’t even hit her that hard.

She cuts a peek back at the TV and _nope! No!_ The killer waves a butcher knife in the air, chasing a screaming teenager, and Kara buries her face back into Alex’s shoulder. Alex can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from her throat again.

“How can you _watch_ this?” Kara whines into the older girl’s neck as she hears what sounds like the start of a chainsaw on the small screen behind her. “Aren’t you scared?”

Alex hums under her, the sound making her chest rumble pleasantly, toned arms tightening just the slightest bit around Kara.

“Nah. I’ve already watched this. I know how it ends.”

“Please tell me this isn’t based on a true story or something.” A family of murderers? That can’t be real. It shouldn’t.

Alex would know. Probably.

“I don’t know, it’s Texas,” she says as if that’s all the explanation she needs.

She doesn’t want to move from her _very comfortable_ spot nestled into the crook of her neck to glare at Alex, so she glares at the wall over her shoulder and tries to put as much faux hurt into the whine in her name, drawing it out for emphasis.

“Alex. You’re supposed to reassure me, you know.”

“Am I?” Smart mouth.

* * *

Kara remembers the ice she’s supposed to be holding to Alex’s face a little too late, eyeing the ziplock filled with water on the coffee table with slight guilt. Her freeze-breath is a power she hasn’t yet mastered, otherwise she would just re-freeze the water.

“I’m gonna get more ice,” she says, gesturing to the paper towel covered baggie as she heads to the kitchen. Alex lets out a grunt in response and when she comes back she finds her laying on the couch, head resting on a pillow on the left arm while she watches the movie.

She taps Alex’s legs, urging her to scoot a little so she can sit and check on her ribs. Her fingers brush soft skin as she goes to lift the hem of her shirt and Alex gasps and moves away.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyeing her and the ice-pack warily.

“I’m checking your ribs.”

“My ribs are fine, Kara. Just give me the ice-pack.”

Kara huffs. “Stop being a baby and lift up your shirt.”

When Alex makes no move to obey, she raises her eyebrows in a challenge. “I have x-ray vision and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Alex knows when she’s beat and Kara tries to suppress the smug smirk on her face when the older girl slumps back on the couch, lifting her shirt right up to where the start of the bruise begins. A sharp intake of breath is her only reaction as she takes in the color and placement.

She can’t help but reach out, lightly running her fingers over the skin. Her fingers must be cold because Alex shivers, body moving away from the touch.

“Sorry.” The apology’s a reflex; the pressure too delicate to actually hurt.

“Tickles,” she grunts out before lowering her shirt. “See. Fine.”

Kara rolls her eyes. Would it kill her to use complete sentences? “Ok, but you still need this,” she shakes the bag of ice in her hand. Alex makes to grab it, but Kara keeps it just out of her reach, waving her hands away as she settles it over her shirt, right where she knows the bruise to be.

She keeps her pressure light, climbing over Alex and gesturing for her to scoot as she lays between her and the couch; half on the brunette, legs tangled together, with her head on her chest and the ice-pack between them.

Alex reaches for the throw before she can, pulling it over the both of them. High enough for Kara to pull over her head if she needs to (as is her wont when watching scary movies). The action has her snuggling in closer, her arm wrapping around Alex’s middle.

It’s nice. Despite the circumstances that lead them here, this is nice. And warm, and _safe_ , and Kara doesn’t ever want to move from her place here.

It’s enough to stave off the growing fear in her belly as the movie plays out.

Several jump scares and absolutely _horrifying_ moments later, Kara is prepared to stay awake _forever_. She can’t have nightmares about a chainsaw-wielding maniac if she doesn’t sleep. Take _that_ , logic.

But still, she stays with Alex until the credits start rolling.

“Can we watch something else?” she asks, trying to keep her tone light and unaffected.

“Like what?” The question is innocent, but Kara knows better. Can tell by the tone of her voice that if Kara were to keep up her unaffected facade, Alex might just push and see how far the both of them are willing to take this.

She gives in. Because she’s come to learn that an appropriate sense of wariness at Alex’s tenacity and curiosity is best. (No matter how playful it makes her.)

“Anything but horror,” she murmurs, sinking into her in surrender.

Alex snorts under her.

“It’s not _that_ bad,” she says, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance.

“That’s because you actually _like_ horror. I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight,” Kara pouts.

“I’ll sleep with you.” There’s a long pause as what Alex said settles between the two of them. Then she starts stuttering and stammering, rushing to correct. “Uh, um, in, in your bed. ‘Cause we... share a room. Together. But you can sleep in my bed if... y’know, you’re, like, scared. Or something.” There’s a blush on both their faces, she’s sure of it, but Alex clears her throat and her voice goes back to its normal pitch. “But, fine, fine. Rom-com it is.”

If it weren’t for her elevated heartbeat, Kara would never guess Alex is as nervous as she is, quietly flipping through channels.

The thought is oddly comforting and Kara relaxes, enjoying the feel of Alex. The smell of her deodorant, shampoo, and something else, heavy like a forest or the ocean she often frequents. Soothing. Something very much Alex.

“Oh, look. _You’ve Got Mail_ is playing.”

“Really?” Kara turns her attention back to the TV only to be met with the unmistakable opening credits of _The Shining_ playing out on the screen.

“You suck,” she mutters as she snuggles in closer, shutting her eyes tight. Alex laughs and she pinches the skin above the waistband of her jeans in retaliation, delighting in the light flinch it elicits. “That’s so not funny. I had nightmares for _weeks_ the first time we watched this.”

“I think it is,” she chuckles before it turns into a scoff when she remembers Kara was the one who wanted to watch it in the first place. “I _do_ remember being grounded for _three days_ after. So unfair.”

Kara giggles at her mock upset.

She will still firmly deny having asked for such a thing.

“We’re not seriously watching this, are we?” Rao, _once_ was enough.

“Why not? You already know what happens. ‘Sides, I’ll protect you. Jack Nicholson won’t know what hit him.” Alex tightens her arms around her and the feeling is so comforting that for a second, Kara contemplates suffering through two hours of screaming and the nightmares that would come of it.

Alex must sense her apprehension because she wordlessly picks the remote back up again and starts flipping through channels, a warm hand rubbing her back. Kara curls into her in gratitude, relaxing without the threat of a horror movie hanging over her head.

She only realizes how tired she is when the steady breathing under her lulls her closer and closer to sleep, blinking bleary eyes as she struggles to keep them open. And when Alex finally settles on a rerun of some cartoon or other, she’s barely awake enough to pull the throw tighter around the both of them before succumbing to sleep.

* * *

She wakes up to hushed voices. Furious whispers that aren’t really whispers rousing her from her sleep. It’s the first thing she notices.

The second is Alex, tense and still under her. Her heartbeat’s elevated and Kara mumbles out her name and something in Kryptonian that comes out more like unintelligible gibberish.

The voices stop and a familiar hand runs through her hair, soft and calming enough she almost falls back asleep. But Alex is still stiff and it prompts her to look up at Alex, blinking blearily up at the confused frown on her face. She takes a second to get the right words in order and tries in English this time.

“Wha’s goin’ on? Who—”

“Mom’s here,” the older girl interrupts, looking over her shoulder at what she assumes is Eliza. She checks to make certain and sure enough, Eliza stands across from them, the small smile on her face betraying the frown that was on it mere seconds ago.

“Hey, sweetie,” Eliza moves closer to the couch. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get some rest while I talk to Alex.”

She hesitates, fingers twitching on top of Alex’s stomach. She wants to protest, ask to stay, tell her she’s fine here, but one look at Alex’s tightly clenched jaw and she decides against it.

“I’ll take her upstairs,” Alex whispers and there’s a hint of objection coming from Eliza, but her disapproval falls away when Kara immediately gets up to follow. At some point, Alex must have taken off the ice-pack from her abdomen and set it on the coffee table because it lays as proof of her injuries.

And if it weren’t for the bruise on her cheek, the packs of melted ice would give it away. It’s certainly not Alex’s first physical fight by all means, but it is the first one she’s come back with bruises from in close to a decade and that alone is enough to get Eliza riled up.

The ensuing argument would be bad if it were just her knuckles. But it’s not just her knuckles. And it’s not just her face. She’s surprised she wasn’t woken up by _yelling_. Whispering for her benefit seems par for the course.

She wants to follow Alex back downstairs, stay with her through the worst of it and maybe try convincing Eliza that Alex was just protecting her, but the older girl stands firm in the doorway with her hands on her waist.

She doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, fidgeting, eyes flickering from Kara to the floor and back. She opens her mouth then closes it just as quickly, swallowing hard and crossing her arms.

Kara picks up on what she wants to say anyway.

“I’ll stay up here. Doing homework,” she says, taking a step back. Tries to give Alex room to breathe, room to think. It works. Alex takes a breath, then nods.

“Good.” Hazel eyes search her face for a second before dropping. Kara desperately wants to reach out and comfort, but the clear space between them keeps her from moving any closer. She wrings her hands together instead. Alex licks her lips and clears her throat.

“No listening this time, okay?” Her voice is unsteady and tremulous, and again the urge to reach out rises, and again it’s pushed away.

Kara opens her mouth to protest, but Alex interrupts; whispers, “ _Please_.” Any seed of dissent she had falls away at the plea. The break in her voice as ugly and desperate as hers was hours ago. And Kara still has trouble looking her in the eye. Alex never wants her to listen to the arguments she has with her mother—to be a part of the near constant clashes and disputes—not if she can help it. She doesn’t know if it’s her pride or her protective instincts kicking in, but super-hearing and being in the same room certainly don’t help when the fights get _unpleasant_.

Nothing’s been the same since Jeremiah...

“I won’t,” she says. Because this is what Alex needs right now.

Downstairs waits a battle not yet fought. Upstairs is a reprieve. A haven. Untouched and unmarred.

Upstairs is a place where Alex can pretend that everything’s fine with a person who knows nothing is. She can do that for Alex.

Rao knows Alex has done it for her.

The hug Alex gives her is barely a hug. More like a tight squeeze that takes Kara by surprise; so quick she can’t even wrap her arms around Alex properly and squeeze in return. Then Alex is turning around and closing the door behind her, leaving Kara wondering if maybe Alex is the one with super-speed.

* * *

The silence that follows is unnerving.

Usually, there’s a lot more yelling. From both sides. Loud yelling. Audible enough to be heard from upstairs behind a closed door.

Without using her enhanced hearing abilities, Kara can’t detect even a hint of a whisper from downstairs.

It’s worrying.

And no matter how hard she tries to busy herself with homework, she can’t stop the pit in her stomach from growing.

She clutches Alex’s pillow to her chest and attempts to read the same line in her textbook for the nth time in a row.

* * *

Alex doesn’t come upstairs.

But Kara’s called down. For dinner.

It’s a quiet affair.

Kara’s attempts to start a conversation are carefully rebuffed and it’s the first time in months Kara (again) wishes she’d stayed on Krypton.

* * *

Alex has slept in her bed before, just as Kara has slept in hers; arms wrapped tight around each other—and more often than not—with Kara’s head tucked under Alex’s chin, snuggled into her chest, the steady beat of her heart beneath her ear.

The beginning is always the most difficult. Getting over the momentary awkwardness and discomfort. The uncertainty of whether or not the other person will send them back to their own side of the room, a cold bed and a restless night of no sleep waiting for them. In the few months they’ve been getting closer, there has always been a beginning. Now is no different.

They pretend. Because it’s easier that way. Because they know both of them will end up in the same bed at some point during the night, even if both of them adamantly deny it to themselves. Hope and need win out in the end.

And this time, it’s Kara who surrenders. Or maybe it’s Alex. She’s never really sure when it comes to _this_. All the same, Kara’s the one who crosses the space between their beds to Alex, on her back and staring at the ceiling, not even trying to feign sleep. She waits and hopes and _tries_ to keep the warmth in her chest from settling when Alex huffs and raises her blanket, wordlessly inviting her in.

She curls against her like a koala and it’s a long few minutes before she feels comfortable enough to speak.

“You okay?”

She expects the answer to be immediate, quick and deflecting, but Alex just breathes and wraps her arms around Kara. She’s quiet so long, she thinks she’s fallen asleep, but her breathing gives her away (she's slept in the same room long enough to know what Alex sounds like when she's sleeping), so Kara just waits, listening to the beat of her heart, strong and steady under her ear.

There’s a sharp intake of breath above her and the sound of a mouth opening as if to speak, and Kara waits. And waits, and waits.

Finally, “Go to sleep, Kara,” is whispered above her.

“Don’t dream of serial killers,” is what follows. The quick change in mood would be confusing if it weren’t _Alex_. She can hear the smirk in her words and Kara huffs, a smidge too comfortable to raise her arm and smack Alex across the stomach.

“Jerk,” she mutters into Alex’s soft sleep shirt. “I hate you.”

Alex’s chest shakes with her quiet laughter, her arm tightening around Kara and pulling her closer. “No, you don’t.”

Kara falls quiet, sinking into the soothing sensation of Alex stroking her fingers through her hair, and the steady motions of Alex breathing under her. So long that she stills and tenses when Kara pulls back to face her. Hazel eyes are dark, even with the light of the moon filtering in through their curtains, brows furrowed in slight concern. Before Alex can ask if anything’s wrong (because Alex _always_ asks, always makes sure Kara is okay) she softly whispers back, “No. I don’t.”

The words are gentle and hushed, a little uncertain and a tad too sappy for the tone that had been set, but she knows she’s been heard by the sharp intake of breath she takes and Alex just _stares_ ; gaze piercing, knowing, and something else. An emotion that makes something in the back of her mind niggle at the familiarity of it. Alex stays stiff under her; form taut, not breathing, not moving, until she blinks and the moment is gone. Kara rests her head back on Alex’s chest and they relax as if a physical weight’s been set down somewhere neither of them are willing to pick back up.

“Love you,” she whispers into the dark of the room. Alex only pulls the blanket up higher around Kara, her right hand warm at the small of her back.

She breathes with Alex. The rhythm of her calm and fixed, anchoring and soothing. She stays awake as long as she can, listening to the thrum of her heart lulling her to sleep, and eventually dozes off to Alex’s fingers running through her hair, the light pressure of a soft kiss placed on her head, and Alex’s low voice murmuring, “Love you, too.”

* * *

She wakes up. Slowly, content. Tries to keep herself from surfacing too quickly into wakefulness when the sensation of Alex; breathing, heart beating under her, and brushing through Kara's hair is _so good_. But the light of the sun filtering in through their curtains warms her skin, super-charging her awake.

"Did you sleep?" she asks Alex with her eyes still closed, soaking up as much of her and the rays of Sol as she could.

"Yeah." The ensuing hum vibrates in her chest pleasantly and it's all Kara can do to cuddle closer, happy to just relax in her spot on top of the brunette, tracing circles on her stomach. Something shifts in the air when Alex shudders underneath her at the light touch. And maybe it's the events from the day before or the silences that snuck their way into every conversation, but Kara feels _brave_. Brave enough to finally address... whatever this is in light of everything that's happened. Everything they've done and the thousands of words they've left unsaid.

"You snore in your sleep." This time, the words are startling enough to break through whatever rumination she'd had and she's left without question nor answer. She decides to take a page out of Alex's playbook instead.

"You drool in yours."

The smack of a hand on the face above her makes her burst into giggles, only giggling harder when Alex playfully shoves at her shoulder.

"And _I'm_ the jerk."

Kara scoots back, gets up on one elbow and looks down at a pouting Alex. "You are kind of a jerk," she says, poking a finger into her stomach.

Alex rolls her eyes and pokes Kara back. "You're kind of a jerk, too, y'know."

There's that tension again. Calling, beckoning. Just within reach. The unknown dangling high over a cliff's edge and Kara wants to take the leap. (She can fly! She'll be okay. She's survived worse and if the possibility is as euphoric as _flying_ is, then... it's gotta be worth it. _It is, it is, it is_.) But that same emotion that had been in Alex's eyes the night before is back again and it stops any thoughts of flying (falling) in their tracks.

She recognizes it now. The fear in her eyes. Hidden deep and being pushed down deeper. She's not sure if it's fear for or of, Kara or Alex, and she's not willing to risk it being _everything_ that could ruin them before any of it started.

Alex had never been good with fear.

So she pretends. (What's one more lie they tell themselves?) She raises her hand to her forehead and falls back to bed with the most dramatic sigh she can muster. "It's a _terrible_ gift, unfortunately."

Now Alex is the one giggling and relief floods through her. "Will you accept me as I am, Alex of House Dan-Vers?" she implores with a thick Kryptonian accent, words lilting with a mix of hard consonants and song-like vowels, continuing her unnecessary theatrical performance.

She's not really expecting an answer, but Alex gives her one anyway.

"Always."

"Good," she whispers, her own Kandorian accent rooting into the word. The grin on her face can't get any wider. She jumps out of bed and strikes a pose. "Now, come quick, Alex of House Dan-Vers! I smell _The Pancakes of Truce!"_

"Do _not_ call it that!" Alex yells after the giggling alien, already halfway out the door. "And save some for me!"

"No promises!" she yells back, fully intent on saving Alex _at least_ a small stack.

_Silly customs of bondmates._

Even if nothing were to happen between them, she knows they'll always take care of each other.


End file.
